The Guitar
by Shiny Jewel
Summary: Deacon gives Maddie a special piece of his history.


**Authors note: Since everyone has been doing such a great job with all the post-finale angsty stories, I figured I'd throw something a little lighter into the ring. Enjoy!**

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Deacon ran his fingers along the glossy maple of the first electric guitar he ever bought.

He was fifteen, living in rural Tennessee, and it took him almost a year to scrap together the money from the two crappy jobs he worked after school and at night, one stocking shelves at the local grocery store and the other bussing tables at a small twenty four hour diner at a truck stop off the interstate highway.

In a world where he didn't have much, music was everything and Deacon lived and breathed it.

He played it. He listened to it. He wrote it. Hell, he even frequently caught himself daydreaming about it and what it'd be like when he eventually found his way to Nashville to try and make it as a working musician.

The afternoon Deacon proudly walked into the guitar shop in town with the intention to finally purchase something, he moved slowly up and down the aisles agonizing over every last detail of body style, wood types and the merits of a Fender versus a Gibson as if it were a life or death decision. The clerk, a patient and kind older man who noticed him lingering over one of the newer Gibson models, unlocked the glass case, pulled the guitar out of the display and suggested Deacon take it for a test drive.

And as they say, the rest was history.

The beautiful sound it made as he strummed the opening chords to his his favorite Hank Williams song was a memory that long since stayed engrained in his mind even after what seemed like a lifetime of big moments in the music business.

Deacon was holding that Gibson ES-339 Trad Pro Figured Top Hollowbody the first time he ever played an open mic night at the Bluebird, his hands shaking so violently he could barely even grip his guitar pick.

It saw him through his first paying gig, a Tuesday early evening spot at Tootsies with a band consisting of a couple of fellow young musicians he had met at various musical events and auditions, opening for one of the more popular local acts in the area at the time. Sure, nobody was really there to see them, but the exhilarating feeling of being on stage, playing music and getting paid to do it made Deacon feel like he was damn close to living the dream.

That guitar was slung across his body the first time he ever came face to face with Rayna Jaymes in a small rehearsal space in downtown Nashville, where upon his arrival, instead of saying hello, she glanced at the expensive watch on her wrist, raised her eyebrows and muttered, "If I had a nickel for every time I had to wait for a damn guitar player."

Needless to say, he fell in love with her immediately.

When Deacon finally got sober after his fifth stint in rehab, that guitar was his lifeline more times than he could count. It was there for him to reach for in those especially torturous moments, clutching it tightly in his hands instead of the glass of whiskey he often so desperately wanted.

That first guitar wasn't the only one though. Throughout his long career as a successful musician, Deacon had accumulated quite the collection.

There was the sleek black Fender Stratocaster, modeled after the one Jimi Hendrix had once played, given to him by the head of the label when their first record went platinum.

There was the midnight blue Rickenbacker Rayna had surprised him with when he came out of rehab for the first time and the cherry wood Adamas she was holding when he found her naked in his tour bus bunk on the morning of his twenty sixth birthday.

There was Vince's favorite guitar, a beat up walnut stained Gretsch. Despite having as many top of the line models as he wanted at his disposal, for a long while after Vince's death, Deacon refused to play with anything else. Having that little piece of his friend out on stage was one of the few things that brought him comfort during that messy and destructive time in his life.

There were many others over the years. Expensive ones, cheap ones, borrowed ones, autographed ones, vintage ones and limited editions, but none quite compared to the first one he ever owned.

Now, on her fourteenth birthday, he'd give it to Maddie and the memories and stories would one day be hers to tell.

Deacon had always loved Maddie, but since learning she was his daughter there had been a definite shift, a slightly different dynamic to the relationship that had so easily developed between them over the course of her life. In the wake of the accident there had been messiness and tears and pain and blame, but when the dust cleared and the bruises healed, there were visits and stories and music, and moments of pure awe that this amazing young woman was technically part of him.

There's no question he would always feel robbed of the major moments and milestones of Maddie's childhood. It killed him to know she might never call him her dad no matter how close their relationship got, know that he missed out on so much that he'd never get back, but that horrific night that could have ended up a lot worse for all of them was a much needed and cold hard dose of reality. It was the realization of what he could have lost forever and what he could have caused other people to lose. A harsh reminder of the dark place that made him and all the people that loved him so damn miserable. It was the thing that sucked all the happiness out of his life years ago and threatened to do it again, this time, when there was so much more at stake.

The night of the accident he made a decision, a silent promise to himself, right then and there in that hospital bed, to never let it take him down again.

Betrayal was a tough thing and he and Rayna were still wading their way through the muddy waters, figuring out a way to love and trust and piece everything back together. Deep in his heart though, Deacon knew that they had fought too hard and come too far to give it all up now. Not when he was so close to having everything he ever wanted.

Deacon carefully placed the guitar in the weathered black leather case sitting atop Rayna's bed and snapped it shut. He smiled to himself, thinking about surprising Maddie with it later, after all her friends had gone home from the elaborate party Rayna was throwing downstairs, complete with a chocolate fountain, ice cream sundae bar and state of the art karaoke setup so Maddie and her friends could sing Juliette Barnes and Taylor Swift favorites to their hearts content.

Just as he was about to head back downstairs to rejoin the celebration, the door to the bedroom slowly creaked open.

"Hey Deacon. What'cha doin' up here?"

Deacon turned around to see Maddie standing in the doorway peering at him curiously.

"Just hidin' your birthday present as a matter of fact, if you've gotta know," he teased, winking at her. "How bout' you? Shouldn't you be downstairs enjoyin' the party with your friends?"

"My mom sent me up here to look for you. She wants to cut the cake and do the whole happy birthday thing." Maddie rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose as if the thought of a group of people singing her happy birthday were the most vile thing on earth.

Deacon chuckled. "And what's wrong with that?"

"It's so embarrassing," she groaned, folding her arms defiantly across her chest and narrowing her eyes. "I don't really like having a lot of attention on me. Except for when I'm singing. Then it's alright."

Deacon smiled. Teddy may have raised her all these years, but she was still definitely his kid.

"Well, I'll tell you what," he offered, "If I give you your gift now, will you go down there and smile and pretend to enjoy it? Make your mama happy?"

Maddie quickly nodded in agreement and walked over to Deacon as he lifted the black guitar case with a big red bow on it and placed it on the bench in front of the bed.

She bent over to open it, her eyes lighting up when she saw the guitar inside.

"Really?" she asked breathlessly. "This is mine?"

"It is now." Deacon laughed, pleased with her enthusiasm and motioned towards the case. "Why don't you take it out and try it on?"

Maddie lifted the instrument up and admiring it for a moment before arranging the leather strap around her neck.

"Wow," she whispered, running her palm along the neck of the instrument, like Deacon had done so many years ago in that guitar shop.

She looked up at him suddenly, concern on her face.

"I've never played one of these before," Maddie admitted.

Deacon dug through his pocket for a pick and handed it to her before pulling the small portable amp out of the bag had brought with him and plugged it into the wall.

"It's just like playin' on an acoustic, except louder," he reassured her. "Give it a spin."

Maddie strummed a few chords and then looked up at him with a grin at the explosion of sound it produced.

"What should I play?"

"Your guitar, your choice darlin'. But make it a good one."


End file.
